The Underdog the 124th Annual Hunger Games!
by Just-Your-Ordinary-Author
Summary: What if the rule change hadn't been revoked in the 74th Annual Hunger Games? What if Peeta and Katniss were both the victors, but there was no 2nd rebellion? Now, the Hunger Games have continued, and Irene is in for her biggest challenge yet... Rated T because it is the Hunger Games, after all! NOT A SYOT!


Chapter One

My name is Irene Honeysuckle. I am fifteen years old; daughter of Helena Honeysuckle, the housewife, and Ebous Honeysuckle, the hunter. I have been orphaned since I was only seven years old. Some people say that I'm different to everyone around me and that couldn't be more right. However, others say that I love my life in Panem. That's wrong. If those people actually knew me, they would assume quite the opposite.

My home is district two, the second district in the country of Panem that supplies masonry products for the Capitol. Some people might call district two a home, a place to be proud of, but I prefer to relate it to what hell must be like. Think about it – would you like to live in a busy, crowded place where everyone around you judges you because they're cruel, sadistic and brutal beings? Or would you possibly want to see tiny little kids being taught and trained to be Peacekeeper, lap-dogs of the Capitol, when they're only as young as five years old? No, I think not. No one in their right mind would, but the majority of district two love all of that. They _love _being trained to potentially kill other kids for the Capitol's entertainment and glory. Hardly anyone knows how much that disgusts and infuriates me. It's just sickening.

I calmly sit up in the tall large evergreen and play my harmonica softly while the birds whistle along with me. Everything looks so strangely serene and just perfect today. The sky is clear, a beautiful sea blue colour, and it is full of fluffy white clouds. The golden, gleaming, shining sun reflects shimmering glimmers of light on the crystal clear lake below me and the wind blow so cool and lightly so it just tickles the back of my neck. I absolutely love days like this. I love the mysterious, calm woods. One reason is because they are beautiful, spectacular, free. When I was younger, I always used to cut training sessions every Wednesday to relax in the woods with my Dad. Whether it was swimming in that beautiful lake and feeling the tiny fish skim past our feet or just sitting in this same tree watching the world go by, one thing was for certain; we always had great fun. The other reason is they are my family's only get away from the horror that is district two. Sure, I love the woods, but to my Father, the woods were always a second home to him. All of my family love the woods. That is, apart from Iros. He's been brainwashed to think like any other district two citizen.

Up in the tree, I sigh, content and relaxed, and close my eyes. I breathe in deeply, almost tasting the cool, crisp air. This is perfect. Just me, the birds and the trees…

I jump suddenly and the birds, with a shriek, flee from their hiding places when a knife comes into contact with the tree's trunk. I roll my eyes and leap from the tree, landing rather ungracefully, and examine the knife, frowning. It's a highly polished silver, stunningly crafted. It obviously belongs to a vile district two citizen who takes pleasure in murdering. I sigh, because I know _exactly _who its owner is.

'Couldn't you train, oh, I don't know, in the training centre?' I say, annoyed. Even though I already know who I'm talking to, I still jump when my older brother, Iros, appears behind me, his twenty four knives gleaming in his coat and a scowl clearly evident on his face. I scowl back at him as he shoves past me and pulls the knife free before spinning it around in his hand.

'Maybe, Irene, shouldn't _you_ be, ah, I don't know, in the training centre yourself? Or, in fact, training in general?' Iros spits and I feel like screaming in frustration. We've had this conversation lots of times before.

'Why would I go to that good for nothing place? I'd prefer staying in the woods all day, thank you very much!'

My brother looks furious. I can tell by the way his face reddens and how is breathing become heavy. 'Really?' He says, shaking his head. 'Why can't you be normal Irene? Like the rest of the girls!'

Every conversation is like this. 'What do you mean?' I yell back at him. 'Oh, like a worthless, ruthless, soulless _thing _that has no life and spends their time plotting murders? Oh yeah, I would absolutely _love _to be like that.'

I know I've stuck a nerve and I quickly dodge and run into the centre of town before Iros can lunge at me. Lots and lots of people stand in huddles on the cobble stones and talk excitedly about today. Usually, I hate every single minute of every day I have to endure in district two, but this day I loathe even more. Why? Because today is Reaping day. The day where two kids, aged 12 to 18 years old, one boy and one girl from each district, get chosen at random to fight to the death for the Capitol's entertainment. This is a reminder to all twelve districts that none of them can defeat the so-called almighty power of the Capitol. This is our punishment for trying to rebel against the Capitol and failing. 124 years have passed since that rebellion failed, and today is the day that we are reminded of that. People think this is a day to be celebrated – they want to bring pride to their district – but not me. I am, as Iros says, different.

As I walk further and further into the centre of town on the bumpy, uneven stones, I start to hear the whispers. People pointing at me and whispering to others. Some laughing at me. Then I hear thw words which anger me the most:

_Look at her!_

_She's not ready._

_She's not good enough._

_She's weak!_

_If she gets reaped, make sure someone volunteers for her._

I bite my tongue and try my best to ignore them but just those words whirl like a whirlwind in my mind. Why does everyone in my district think I'm weak? Just because I'm different? I continue to walk, each step wobblier than the last until I reach the end house in Victor's Village and slam the door shut behind me just in time to hear a Mother to tell her child to quit staring at me.

In the whole of District Two, there are only two people that I completely trust; who I can relate to. No, my brother is _not _one of these people.

One of these people is kind old Mae, who is 74 years old and runs the local blacksmith's trade. Old Mae is a person that you'd be surprised I am friends with, because she's a past Games victor. She won the Games 58 years ago – the 66th Annual Hunger Games – when she was only sixteen years old. She doesn't talk about her experiences in the Arena often, so I have no idea how she won, but I have a feeling that it wasn't just luck. Old Mae is a plump, kind old woman whose hair is a dark grey colour and is short and tangled. Her eyes are almost amber in colour when they hit sunlight, but in the dark they seem to be a deep green. Her teeth are yellow and crooked and her skin is tinged grey and wrinkled. She has a long, white scar that runs all the way down the right side of her face from her eyebrow to her cheekbone. Her right eye is disfigured and blind; glazed over and senseless. She is a small woman and her bones are especially brittle, so she has to use leg supports and a walking stick to move around. Old Mae lost her children years ago – one to the Games and her daughter to a fatal accident. To me, Old Mae is the Grandmother I never got the chance to meet.

The other person I can completely trust is Old Mae's Granddaughter, little Ella, who is only nine years old. Ella is a sweet, charming little girl who has lived with her Grandmother since she was one year old, when her Mother died in the same accident that killed my Father and, eventually, my Mother too. Ella is a sweetheart – she has the same golden blonde hair that is often tied in two ponytails and out of control and green wide eyes. Once you are Ella's friend, she will, no doubt, stay loyal to you. When I go round Old Mae's house now and then, I always see Ella helping out – whether it's cleaning the dishes or helping Old Mae around.

A sweet, sweet smell of cinnamon and elderflower fills my nostrils as soon as I enter the house. Everything seems to be gleaming as the sun gleams through the tattered, ancient curtains. Many different species of flowers cover furniture and create an aroma so heavenly that I have to breathe it in. Ella sure does a good job of keeping this place clean.

Before I can even blink, Ella is hugging me so tightly that I can barely breathe. I laugh and gently ease her off me and spin her around playfully. She giggles in delight. When I put her down, I ask her how she is. She shrugs.

'I'm alright!' She smiles sweetly at me, and I can't help but smile back. 'Nana's upstairs, asleep!'

'Again?' I say, my eyebrows furrowing inwards. A couple of days ago I went to visit Old Mae and Ella, and the old lady was fast asleep then, as well. Ella must see my concerned and worried expression, because she laughs a little.

'Don't worry about Nana!' She says cheerfully, brushing it off. 'Doctor says she's all fine.' I relax a little and, although I'm still a bit on edge, I sit down in an old armchair. I look in the mirror in front of me and stare blankly at the girl who stares back at me. Her hair is a little bit longer than before – now it falls to her mid-back in wild, almost black curls. Her forest green eyes sparkle with determination. Her skin is deathly pale, yet she still has lots of small, strange freckles. I move my hand upwards and the girl in the mirror touches the golden heart shaped locket that hangs from her neck. I instantly tear my eyes away from the mirror and let my hands fall to my sides when Ella asks me if I would like a drink. I nod.

When Ella opens a mysterious device very few of us have – I think she calls it a fridge – I see that the food supply is suspiciously low. When I visited last – which was not long ago at all – there was enough food to feed the whole district for three months, at the least, I set my jaw and clench my fists. Ella hands me a carton of orange juice.

'They did it again, didn't they.' I say. It's not a question – it's more like a statement. Ella nods sadly. I bite my lip to stifle a curse.

For some people in District Two, food is scarce. Actually, it is for most of us; even for people who are higher in society; even for the Peacekeepers. On the third day of every month, they think that it's ok to, not only take in our taxes, but to take almost every single piece of food we have left, too. Or, in fact, anything that appears to be useful for them. That's why most of us are struggling to deal with famine and poverty. Even the past victors have begun to feel the Peacekeeper's selfish impacts. The worst thing is, though, is that they often steal Old Mae's essential medicine. The very thing that keeps her stable and alive.

So, without a second thought, I hand Ella a medium sized bag of berries and a bunch of healing plants that I found when I was in the woods as soon as she takes her seat next to me. She doesn't accept it at first, but when I explain that I wouldn't leave until she takes them, she soon does with a thankful smile.

We chat about many things; about Reaping Day, about the Capitol and the Games. Most of all, I constantly reassure her that I won't get reaped. She doesn't look convinced. After about an hour – which passes by like a blur – three steady bells chime and ring in my ears. I suddenly feel sick. It's time for the reaping ceremony. I stand and Ella clings onto me. I hug her briefly before I walk out of Victor's Village in silence. I can't bear to see hear tearful eyes.

Our Justice Building is beautiful, despite it being from the Capitol. It is a large, marble building which has the number '2' delicately carved onto the top of it. We rarely ever go to the Justice Building, and when we do, it's on Reaping Day. Crowds of people walk beside me. Mothers whisper reassuring words to their children and groups of friends joke and chat excitedly about the events of today. One of them shoots a dirty look at me and I would be lying if I said that I didn't throw one back at them. The top of the Justice Building is visible now from where I walk, from over people's heads. I start to get butterflies in my stomach. Why am I so nervous? I try to calm myself down, but that doesn't work; that only makes me more agitated. I shouldn't be nervous. I shouldn't, I shouldn't. Why am I, then? The crowd gets smaller and smaller and I can see the whole Justice Building now.

When I reach the end of the queue of people, I give my arm to a scary looking woman who yanks me forward and I grimace and recoil when the needle pierces my skin. I hear giggles and snickers behind me and even the woman who presses my finger against a sheet of paper smirks at me before she asks my name to clarify.

'Irene Honeysuckle.' I stutter and blush a deep scarlet. She waves me off, and I'm left to find the other fifteen year old girls. Again, I get stares as I walk through the eighteen, seventeen and sixteen year olds. I see Iros in the eighteen year-old boy cluster. He and his friends seem to be engrossed in a discussion about who will volunteer first, so I don't look for reassurance. I get to my cluster just in time to see our district escort, Maddox Haddow, strut onto the stage, his brightly coloured clothing burning our eyes and his neon pink curly hair colourful. I, absentmindedly, groan. People from the Capitol are so… disgustingly ridiculous.

'Happy Hunger Games!' Maddox squeals excitedly and claps his hands in delight. 'May the odds be _ever _in your favour!'

People next to me chat excitedly and when Maddox begins his speech about how utterly _amazing _the Capitol is, they listen intently. I roll my eyes and zone out completely. The last thing I want to listen to is the history of the Games. I've heard it too many times before.

I look around me and stare in shock at the kids around me. Even the twelve and thirteen year olds look fired up. The fourteen year olds look calmer, and they patiently wait until Maddox's speech is over. The sixteen and seventeen year olds look poised to jump out to volunteer at any moment, and the determined expression they hold is so intense that I find it hard to look away. The eighteen year olds look as if they're going to kill someone at any moment and they look at each other almost daringly. I shudder on impulse and return my attention to Maddox. He has just picked out a number from a glass bowl. I hold my breath.

'Number 34!' He says. We are still holding our breaths when he reads the back of the slip of paper to determine the name. 'Celestica Jerock!'

I hear groans around me as one of Iros' friends smirks and makes her way onto the stage. Then I hear whispers, which obviously aren't quiet enough as I can hear them clearly.

'Someone's going to volunteer for her, and she had the chance.'

'Why did she have to get reaped?'

'I was hoping that Irene would get reaped. Then, almost everyone would have a good reason to volunteer.'

I stare at the ground and warmth rushes to my cheeks as everyone agrees, muttering. Anger boils inside of me. I clench my fists and grit my teeth. People step forward to volunteer.

_Enough is enough._

_I'm not weak._

_And I'll prove it._

The words escape my mouth before I can contain them.

'Stop! Please! I volunteer as tribute!'

**Hey guys! It's me, Looks . Aren't . Everything! I thought that I'd start a new story about my own tribute, Irene Honeysuckle, and her adventure through the Games. Do you like it? Hopefully it wasn't that bad…**

**Please, read and review, so I can see what you make of my new fic!**

**R&R,**

**Peace and love, xx**


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